#Mulberry Market
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Sustainable Practices in Mulberry Farming
Mulberry Market, a term that resonates with both tradition and modernity, is much more than just a collection of sweet, juicy berries. It's a thriving industry with a rich history, and it's poised for a fruitful future. In this comprehensive article, we delve deep into the Mulberry Market, exploring its origins, current trends, economic significance, and the myriad opportunities it offers. Whether you're a seasoned investor or simply curious about the world of berries, join us as we embark on this juicy journey through the Mulberry Market.
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Mulberry Market: A Brief Overview
Mulberries, those delightful little bursts of sweetness, have been a part of human cultivation for centuries. They belong to the Morus genus and are known for their distinctive flavor and nutritional benefits. Mulberries come in various colors, with red and white varieties being the most common.
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The Historical Roots of Mulberry Cultivation
Mulberries have a storied history, with their cultivation dating back to ancient civilizations. In this section, we explore how Mulberry Market's roots trace back to:
1. Ancient China: The Cradle of Mulberry Cultivation
In ancient China, mulberries were revered not only for their delicious taste but also for their role in silkworm rearing. The mulberry leaves served as the primary food source for silkworms, a crucial step in silk production.
2. The Silk Road Connection
The Silk Road facilitated the exchange of goods and cultures across continents. Mulberries found their way to Europe along this ancient trade route, introducing the fruit to new regions.
3. Renaissance Europe: The Mulberry Craze
In Renaissance Europe, mulberries gained popularity among royalty and the aristocracy. King James I of England even attempted to promote mulberry cultivation to support the silk industry.
The Mulberry Market Today
Fast forward to the present day, and Mulberry Market has evolved into a diverse and dynamic industry. Let's explore its current landscape, including:
4. Mulberries as Superfoods
Mulberries have made a resurgence as superfoods, packed with vitamins, antioxidants, and fiber. Their health benefits have propelled them into the spotlight of the wellness industry.
5. Commercial Mulberry Farming
Commercial cultivation of mulberries has seen remarkable growth, with dedicated farms catering to both fresh fruit and processing industries.
6. Mulberry Products Galore
The market now boasts a plethora of mulberry-based products, from jams and wines to skincare items, capitalizing on the fruit's versatility.
Economic Significance of the Mulberry Market
The Mulberry Market isn't just about delicious berries; it's a robust economic player. Here's why it matters:
7. Employment Opportunities
Mulberry cultivation and processing provide employment opportunities in both rural and urban areas, contributing to livelihoods worldwide.
8. Export Potential
Mulberry products, particularly silk and textiles, have significant export potential, boosting international trade.
9. Supporting Sericulture
The silk industry heavily relies on mulberry leaves, emphasizing the interconnectedness of these markets.
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Challenges and Innovations
Like any industry, the Mulberry Market faces its share of challenges. However, innovation is key to overcoming them:
10. Pests and Diseases
Mulberry trees are susceptible to pests and diseases. Research and development in pest management are crucial for sustainable farming.
11. Sustainable Farming Practices
The shift towards sustainable farming practices, such as organic mulberry cultivation, is gaining momentum.
12. Biotechnology and Crop Improvement
Advancements in biotechnology offer promising solutions, including disease-resistant mulberry varieties.
Mulberry Market Trends: What's Hot and What's Not
To stay ahead in the Mulberry Market, it's essential to keep an eye on emerging trends:
13. Mulberries in Functional Foods
Mulberries are finding their way into functional foods, including protein bars and supplements, catering to health-conscious consumers.
14. Mulberry Varietal Exploration
Exploration of different mulberry varieties is creating opportunities for unique flavor profiles and culinary experiences.
15. Sustainable Packaging
Sustainability is at the forefront, with eco-friendly packaging solutions gaining traction.
Investment Opportunities
Are you considering investing in the Mulberry Market? Here's what you need to know:
16. High ROI Potential
Investors are drawn to the Mulberry Market's high return on investment, particularly in silk production and value-added products.
17. Diversification Benefits
Diversifying your portfolio with Mulberry Market investments can help mitigate risks associated with other industries.
18. Market Analysis Tools
Utilize market analysis tools to identify growth areas and make informed investment decisions.
Mulberry Market Around the Globe
The Mulberry Market isn't confined to a single region. Let's explore its global presence:
19. Asia: The Mulberry Hub
Asia, particularly China and India, remains at the forefront of mulberry cultivation and silk production.
20. Europe: A Growing Market
Europe is experiencing a resurgence in mulberry cultivation, driven by health-conscious consumers.
21. North America: Exploring New Frontiers
Mulberry farming is gaining ground in North America, presenting exciting opportunities for growers.
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FAQs About the Mulberry Market
Q: Are mulberries only used for consumption?
A: No, mulberries have diverse applications, including textiles, cosmetics, and even medicinal uses.
Q: What is the nutritional value of mulberries?
A: Mulberries are rich in vitamins, antioxidants, and fiber, making them a nutritious choice.
Q: How can I invest in the Mulberry Market?
A: You can explore investment options such as mulberry farms, silk production, or mulberry-based product manufacturing.
Q: Is organic mulberry farming a sustainable practice?
A: Yes, organic mulberry farming focuses on sustainability and environmental stewardship.
Q: What are some emerging trends in the Mulberry Market?
A: Emerging trends include mulberries in functional foods, sustainable packaging, and varietal exploration.
Q: Which countries are the largest players in the Mulberry Market?
A: China, India, and several European countries are significant contributors to the Mulberry Market.
The Mulberry Market is a captivating blend of tradition and innovation, offering a bounty of opportunities. Whether you're a consumer seeking nutritional benefits, an investor looking for high returns, or simply someone intrigued by the world of mulberries, this market has something sweet for everyone. As we continue to explore the evolving landscape of the Mulberry Market, remember that its roots run deep, and its future is ripe with potential. So, let's savor the journey through the delicious, lucrative world of Mulberry Market.
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Italian market, Mulberry Street, New York. Between 1900 and 1910
Photo by Detroit Publishing Company,
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i saw this and thought of you
yeah I’d probably try that
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Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You
Next Part
Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton.
Warnings- MDNI 18+, Felix is delulu, Reader is stressed and homesick and kinda crazy but she a baddie, Michael is Michael, Farleigh is Farleigh, Oliver will be Oliver (a creep), and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic
Author's Note: This fic is a follow-up to this post and I would like to thank grammarly for catching all my grammatical errors 🥲, @ethereal-athalia for enabling my crazy ideas 🥰, and @valeskafics for providing me Saltburn smut when I catch myself thirsting 😇
“FUCK!” you yelled at the top of your lungs just before your nose slammed down on the dewy grass.
Groaning in pain before the mortification of realizing what had just happened kicked in.
You didn’t know what was worse: the fact you had a full front view of the giant’s junk or that he body-slammed you onto the ground and caused you to land on top of the painting worth 30% of your final grade.
You wanted to scream your head off. The paint had finally dried, and you could finally leave the studio at two in the morning. It was close to finals, and pretty much anyone on campus who didn’t get accepted because of their daddy’s bank account was in their dorms. You had hoped that this fact would mean that the paths were empty and, therefore, safe to transport your 30” x 40” canvas.
“SORRY!”
You shot your head up to locate the person who just apologized. Lo’ and behold, it was the same plastered, pasty cunt with a bird’s nest disaster of a haircut drunken idiot who decided it was a good idea to go streaking across campus. His only other distinguishable features were that he was at least 6’3” and that he had a small steel piece pierced on his face.
After the “apology,” he and his friend continued running off to God’s knows where in the dead of night—leaving you behind on the lawn with a bleeding nose, bruised knees and palms, and an oil painting that was torn and caked in mud three days before its deadline.
There was no way to redo it. The project was assigned at the beginning of October. It took 5 hours to set up the models with the motifs and lights, 3 hours to take pictures, and 10 hours to underdraw the preliminary sketch. You didn’t even want to think about the sheer number of sleepless nights you spent in the studio mixing colors and layering. On top of that, you also had your other finals in other courses to study for.
You had practically been living in that studio for the past month. All of the custodians and security guards knew you by name. You got first dibs every day when they refilled the vending machines. It was a true godsend when you didn’t have time to visit the dining halls. Everyone had been so kind and sweet to you. It was a warm welcome compared to the snark and snobbery you experienced from most of your classmates.
Crying from the devastation of the loss of your situation, your shaking legs carried your body and what remained of your work into the building. You knew that your professor stayed in her office late for grading. You could only hope that she would sympathize with your pitiful appearance.
“Wait, so did you get the extension?”
Lifting your head from the sticky library table at Bodleian’s, you stared at your best only friend, Michael Gavey, with a blank stare. You didn’t react to his wince after he took in your haggard appearance. You didn’t need a mirror to know that you looked terrible.
Your eyes were puffy and bloodshot red with dark mulberry bags underneath them. You had paled since coming to dreary England, but now you looked straight-up sickly. And if that wasn’t enough, your eyes had less life than a dead fish rotting at a Sunday Market.
Your voice was so meek that you were sure he had to strain to hear you.
“Yeah…I got it.”
You knew you had no choice but to beg your Studio Arts professor for an extension. But it killed you doing it. Professor Daria Martin was your favorite teacher and the only faculty member who actually liked you. Her support toward you meant everything to you; the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint her, let alone be the reason why she lost her job.
Your usually so snarky four-eyed friend perked up at the news.
“So, is everything okay?” he asked with hope.
Your head fell on neon-yellow ink-stained pages that filled the paperweight your ethics professor called a textbook. A bitter laugh fell from as your lips lifted to a wry, dry grin.
“Oof, not that simple, is it?” he asked.
“Is it ever?”
“So what do you have to do now?”
“Well-,” you lifted your head to take a deep breath as you started to explain, “- I still have the photos and copies of the sketch. But because the canvas was so large, it was special-ordered. That means I need to wait until another one can be delivered, and since all the works need to be completed in the studio, I can’t leave the campus.”
As you finished your explanation, Michael nodded his head in understanding before he paused, and a look of devastation painted his features.
“Wait, so does that mean-”
“I won’t be able to fly back home for the holidays.”
Fuck, you were about to cry again. You had been so excited to see your old friends and family. You remembered how absolutely homesick you were at the beginning of the term. Because you were a scholarship student from America, your parents encouraged you to settle on campus by moving to your dorm earlier than everyone else. It was bad enough that you missed Thanksgiving, but you had really set your heart on coming home for Christmas and New Year’s. What made it worse was that your parents had told you all about the dinner they had planned for your homecoming. It was going to be a feast of all your favorites.
English food sucked balls.
Your only saving grace was the Crunchie bars Michael got for you when you studied together or when you had to rewrite edit his essays.
You really DID cry after first reading his essay for Introductory English class at the beginning of the year.
“Did you try to report it?”
“Report what? ‘Hey, there’s a wasted asshole running naked across campus, and he body-slammed me to the ground and tore my fucking massive campus that blocked my view of the jackass. He’s probably richer than the goddamn Queen, given how he’s wasted right before finals.’”
“Do you have any description of him?”
“He’s a giant with a small eyebrow piercing, and his fat ass looked like it had never seen the sun.”
Without lifting your head, you heard the scrape of Michael’s chair before he walked across the table to sit in the chair next to you.
“Hey,” he began, bringing you into a warm arm hug, “it’ll be okay. You called your parents about it, right?”
“Yeah -” you sighed before continuing, “- they told me they understood and would Skype me daily.”
“See! Everything’s going to be – wait, did you say that this guy was tall?”
Furrowing your brow in confusion, you looked at your friend at the change in his tone from light and supportive to sharp and interrogative.
“Yeah?”
“How tall?”
“Umm,” you had to think about that, “I’d say he was about 6’3” or above? He was really fucking tall.”
“And he had an eyebrow piercing?”
Ok, now you were really confused. “Yes? Michael, where are you going with this?”
“I think the guy who ran you over was Felix Catton.”
You shot your favorite idiot with a deadpan glare.
“Felix Catton? The same Felix Catton who just so happens to be the same Felix Catton you hate?”
Michael solemnly nodded. “It’s him. It has to be. The only person on campus as tall as him is his cousin, and he doesn’t have piercings.”
“And he’s black.”
“Yeah, that too.”
You were skeptical, and it showed. You didn’t want to callously dismiss your friend, but you knew more than anyone how much his hatred for Oxford’s Golden Boy could impair his judgment. You were by no means a fan of the guy, but accusing someone of anything they didn’t do just because your friend thought so went against your principles.
He grabbed your arm and dragged you to the bookshelf in front of the table where Felix and his groupies sat. Both of your books and bags were in your chairs, but you managed to keep your spiral notebook with you. It wasn’t hard to find them – they were the loudest table in the entire library. They also reeked of cigarettes and booze.
“See?” Michael hissed. “Giant, pale, and eyebrow piercing. It’s him!”
“Michael,” you softly groaned, “just because you hate Felix Catton doesn’t mean you can –”
An extremely shrill voice interrupted you.
“I can’t believe you and Farleigh actually ran around campus naked!”
A petite girl with full pink lips and dull red hair latched on the arm of the man of the hour. “It was so hot to watch!”
This girl has weird-ass tastes in guys.
“And then how you crashed into that dunce at Ruskin! Brilliant!”
Your blood ran cold while another one of Catton’s faceless droning puppets chimed in.
“God, what an idiot! It’s their own fault, anyway. Who the fuck walks in the middle of the walk path with a fucking big canvas in front of them?”
One of the lessons hammered into your skull young was never to move before you think. That lesson had saved you ten ways from Sunday. But this was not one of those times.
You’re pretty sure that you hear Michael calling out your name as you walk away from the shelf and towards the overcrowded table. Tunnel vision took over you as you made your way to the overgrown idiot who almost cost you your entire future.
Grabbing the back of his shirt collar, you dragged the 6’5” towering fool on his ass all the way outside. You finally let go when the two of you reached the back of the building that had no windows.
“Hey, what the fu –”
You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, did you relish the crunch that immediately followed your swing.
Fuck, was his head killing him.
Felix should have known better than to have gotten cross-faded last night, but Farleigh had practically goaded him to do it. It’s not like his cousin ever had to worry about his grades for any of his courses during finals – the little shit-starter had always been so fucking academically gifted.
He skipped pretty much all of his morning classes and barely made it to his afternoon schedule on time while completely zoning out the entire time.
If he bombs on all his finals, his dad was going to absolutely murder him. But chances were he and his mum were going to be too busy entertaining whichever new friend his mum brought in for shelter.
“You alright there, champ?”
Felix swiveled his head too quickly and immediately groaned in pain. The motion made his hangover even worse. Rubbing his eyes to try to soothe the pounding in his head, he slowly opened them to look at his cousin.
The slag didn’t have the decency to look even a little bit affected from last night’s event – the fucker. No, he was sitting there with all Cheshire grins and gleaming eyes while Felix was two seconds from heaving his guts out.
“Yeah, I’m alright, mate.” He replied in a tired groan.
“Must have been quite the night. Wonder if it had anything to do with that little cocktail you took from our sweet Annabel’s belly button?”
Disgust was clear on Felix’s face as he recalled the body shot he had taken from his ex-FWB’s navel. He truly must have been off his rocker last night – he thought he was over with body shots since graduating secondary, but apparently not.
If he somehow got an STD from doing it, V was going to kill him.
But even with all of his horrible actions that caused the raging war inside his skull, that wasn’t the main cause of his misery.
Farleigh’s grin dropped as judgment painted his features.
“Oh,” he moaned, “please tell me this isn’t about ‘your angel’ from last night.”
He didn’t just take the dare of streaking across the grounds just for the hell of it. He needed an excuse to pass through the art building – all for the chance of seeing you.
You. His angel of paints and books who lived in the empty studio rooms of Oxford University’s Ruskin School of Art and whose presence harangued him every hour of every day. Everywhere Felix went, he would unconsciously look for you.
It was his soul calling out for yours – he knew it.
Felix had never felt so drawn to another human being in his entire existence. He’d never seen you outside of the libraries, art building, and maybe the dining hall if he was lucky. You never went to any parties or even had a drink at the pub at King’s Arms. He didn’t even have classes with you, but he knew Farleigh did. Word was that you and his cousin had shared a few classes – what’s more was that you were likely the only person who could go head-to-head with him in academics.
And to make it worse, the prat refused to tell him anything about you – not even your fucking name.
“Believe me,” he told him after Felix had been begging his cousin for hours to share anything about you, “she is way above your league.”
Which really hurt his feelings, by the way – sure, you were probably way above in book smarts, but there wasn’t a girl that remained indifferent to his charms after a good talking fucking.
“I still can’t believe you won’t at least tell me her name,” Felix complained once more, “or even just give me her number!”
“She’s an American here on scholarship and a bore,” he quipped back, “what’s there to tell? And can you please shut up? I want to get some reading done before tonight. You do remember the in-class essay we have tomorrow, right?”
Bloody hell, he did not. Pushing down the bitter feeling in his chest, he and his cousin made their way to meet everyone at the back. As soon as he sat down, Annabel clung on to his arm. Thank fuck he had been wearing one of his thicker jumpers – otherwise, her claws that she called nails would have ripped open the fabric.
“Hey, Felix!” she made sure to offer a very generous sight of her cleavage, “are you ready for tonight?”
Felix chuckled lowly before responding. “Aren’t I always?”
And just like that – he completely zoned out the rest of the conversation.
Annabel was probably saying something to get him to notice her, and Farleigh was likely responding so he wouldn’t have to – but Felix couldn’t be bothered to pretend to care.
He was lost in the living daydream that was his angel that haunted the art studios of Ruskin School of Art.
He was desperate to learn everything about you.
If he asked you to talk about your favorite books, would your eyes sparkle in delight, or would your smile widen in glee?
If he grabbed your hand, would your palms feel marred by his rough skin, or would you press your callouses to his?
If he pressed his mouth on yours, would your lips feel as soft and plump as they look? Or was their luster forever damaged by your teeth biting them whenever you were in deep concentration?
If he breathed in your scent at the crook of your neck, would your skin smell like the paints forever on your brushes or the musky pages of heavy ancient books you always carried in your arms?
If he planted kisses from your throat to your breasts, would you mewl in pleasure or whimper in anticipation?
If he touched your cunt, would you arch your back in ecstasy? Or would your legs crumble, and you would have no choice but to sink into his arms?
Felix’s thoughts were rudely interrupted when Farleigh jammed his bony elbow into his ribcage and hurriedly whispered.
“Look alive, Golden Boy.”
Looking forward, it was better than any of his wet dreams combined. It was you.
Your hair was loose, and your fists were clenched. You reminded him of a ferocious lion goddess with how focused your gaze was on him.
But before Felix would prepare himself to make a good impression, you walked behind him and grabbed the back of his shirt collar before fucking dragging his ass out of his seat and outside.
Bloody hell, for someone so much shorter than him, you were fucking strong.
When you finally released your grip, he fell on the ground like an idiot before he tried to stand and steady himself as quickly as he could.
“Hey, what the fu –”
You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, you might have actually broken his nose.
After staggering back, you started using the spiral notebook in your other hand to land blow after painful blow on his body.
“YOU. STUPID. FUCKING. INGRATE –” Each word that left your mouth was emphasized with another hit from your notebook “– I. HATE. YOU. YOU. RUINED. MY. PAINTING. I. SPENT. SO. MUCH. TIME. ON. IT. AND. NOW. I. CAN’T. GO. HOME. FOR. BREAK. BECAUSE. OF. YOUR. STUPID. SELF!”
Felix was confident you had more to say, but you were pulled off him by your friend – he’s pretty sure it’s Mitchell – by the waist with you kicking and screaming out profanities to him as your friend called out your name to try to calm you down.
He wondered what it said about him if he told anyone how much you looked like an angry cat. His parents would send him to a shrink if he told them how adorable he found you right now.
If you were this wild while fighting, he could only imagine how riled up you would get in bed.
Fuck, you might have just unlocked a new kink in him.
Catching his breath as he watched your friend drag you away into the distance, he heard a slow clap to his left.
Farleigh was leaning on the corner – his smug expression making it clear that he had seen the whole thing – as he looked at his cousin with a bemused expression before walking toward him and giving a sympathetic pat on his back.
“Well,” he started to break the tension, “at least you know her name.”
“Yeah,” Felix agreed, “I know her name.”
And he knew that you smelled more like the paints on your brushes than the books you carried with subtle notes of gardenias.
Tagging: @aemondsbabe, @ethereal-athalia, @aphroditesmoon, @barbiedragon, @valeskafics, @lexyysworld, @punkiwiki, @saltburnedme, @arcielee
Let me know if you want to be tagged for future Saltburn fics!
#saltburn x reader#saltburn#saltburn crack#saltburn au#felix catton x reader#farleigh catton#farleigh start#venetia catton#oliver quick#michael gavey#saltburn 2023#saltburn movie#michael gavey x reader
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The Planets & Random or Obscure Associations
~Sun~
Creativity, vitality, head of state, the father, games, yellow and orange clothing, articles of value, jewelry, gold, brass, power, diamonds, citrine, topaz, jasper, amber, rhodochrosite, mistletoe, almonds, citrus, succulents, sunflowers, fevers, heart, back, spine, grapes, walnuts, rice, chamomile, frankincense, juniper, saffron, marigold, rosemary, rue, palaces, towers, luxury.
~Moon~
Eternal, cycles, silver, aluminum, pearls, moonstone, opal, selenite, chest, glands, lymphatic system, nervous system, emotions, mother, ancestors, nurture, rebirth, tides, baths, ocean, brew, boat, sap, willow trees, succulents, pale color plants, white flowers, cucumber, cabbage, lettuce, melons, shellfish, pumpkins, lakes, fountains, ports, fishponds, pools, springs, sewers, dairies, toys, reflection, blankets, objects of comfort.
~Mercury~
Communication, journal, pen/pencil, any writing tools, wings, phosphorous, mercury, agate, tiger's eye, brain, nervous system, eyes, respiration, thyroid, speech, hearing, intellect, vehicles, money, bills, paper, books, pictures, parties or social gatherings, scientific instruments, butterflies, messages, mail, hazel, mulberry, myrtle, seeds, aniseed, dill, fennel, lavender, liquorice, marjoram, parsley, valerian, hazelnuts, beans, mushrooms, pomegranates, carrots, celery, libraries, schools, markets, fairs, public spaces, tennis or badminton court, studies, banks, bowling greens, offices, blue, white, or light colored flowers.
~Venus~
Love, relating, lust, high-quality fabrics, copper, bronze, sodium, malachite, tourmaline, emerald, rose quartz, kunzite, sapphire, pastels, throat, kidneys, lumber region, art, music, aesthetics, social life, fashion, jewelry, wine, pleasure, alder tree, fruit trees, paint, ash tree, birch, pomegranates, early flowering, daisy, mint, marshmallow, meadowsweet, mugwort, plantain, tansy, roses, thyme, vervain, yarrow, potatoes, strawberries, wheat, sugar, nectarines, ballrooms, bedrooms, dining room, gardens, fountains, wardrobes, theaters, looking and feeling good.
~Mars~
Lust, conquest, desire, flaming sword, red things, fights, iron, brass, bloodstone, carnelian, cinnabar, pyrite, magnetite, ruby, garnet, hematite, muscles, reproductive organs, blood, kidneys, immunity, heat, action, arms, pepper, sharp instruments, cutlery, attacks, scissors, weapons, physical intimacy, bites, stings, scalds, burns, accidents, hawthorn, pine, thorns, cactus, aloes, anemone, arnica, belladonna, garlic, ginger, hops, mustard seed, nettles, wormwood, chives, onions, leeks, radish, rhubarb, tobacco, labs, furnaces, distilleries, bakehouses, ovens, smiths, butchers, fields, anger, passion, self-focus.
~Jupiter~
Expansion, optimism, religion, religious sites, tin, seduction, turquoise, chrysocolla, topaz, citrine, jasper, liver, pancreas, pituitary gland, sciatic nerve, excess, abundance, prophecy, philosophy, knowledge, universities, foreign travel, luggage, honey, oil, silk, fruit, distinct clothing, merchandise, horses, domestic birds, gambling, indulgence, entertainment, oak, dandelion, sage, endive, chervil, asparagus, figs, churches, temples, palaces, altars, courts, mansions, woods, orchards, winery, cornucopia, connecting with the soul.
~Saturn~
Limits, boundaries, father time, lord of death, shadows, lead, iron, steel, calcium, asbestos, sulphur, diamond, onyx, calcite, skeleton, spleen, skin, teeth, nails, joints, structure, crystallization, old age, blockage, anything dark, wool, heavy materials, agriculture, wheelbarrows, spades, farm houses and buildings, cold, laws, aspen, blackthorn, buckthorn, cypress, elm, toxic plants, hemlock, henbane, belladonna, hellebore, barley, beetroot, safflower, parsnips, spinach, deserts, woods, valleys, caves, church yards, ruins, coalpits, sinks, wells, mud, institutions.
~Uranus~
Eccentrics, mavericks, invention, genius, revolution, change, trends, disruptive science or tech, uranium, magnesium, lapis lazuli, sapphire, aquamarine, azurite, chalcedony, electricity, neon lights, plaid, nervous and circulatory system, pineal gland, chaos, violence, upheaval, astrology, steam engines, coal, machinery, coins, baths, fishponds, dangerous places, computers, magnets, quantum physics, research, welfare, humanity, hypnotherapy, railways, banks, gas, psychiatric hospitals, offices, hospitals, dispensaries, fortified places, chemicals, mingled/mingling, spirit and matter.
~Neptune~
Illusions, veils, diffuse, deception, water, oceans, mysticism, enlightenment, artistic pursuit and understanding, zinc, potassium, amethyst, fluorite, jade, sugilite, coral, aquamarine, pineal gland, lymphatic and nervous system, spine, mental processes, addiction, psychoses, disease, photography, music, substances, gas, religion, poetry, mimicry, chameleon, anesthetic, telepathy, empathy, dancing, psychic gifts, places near water, hospitals, places of healing, jeweler, painters, brewers, musicians, visionary.
~Pluto~
Power, influence, darkness, new life, what's hidden underneath, seeds, volcanoes, deep earth or ocean, bury, explosions, eruptions, abduction, plutonium, smoky quartz, obsidian, jet, pearl, deep reds, reproductive organs, the unconscious, nuclear, transformation, death, birth, rebirth, underworld, riches, earthquakes, big business, murder, detection, detective, invisibility, sneak, enforced change, hidden places, underground, drains, sewers, radioactive places, the occult, black magic, sacrifice, renew.
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Anyone keeping rodents or rabbits or parrots in the market for some mulberry chews?
We had to take down two mulberry trees in the bird pens today in order to allow for redoing the overhead netting and repair of a support post, so I have a TON of fresh, organic, pesticide-and-fertilizer-free mulberry wood I can dry and bake for chews right now. The wood is sweet-smelling and on the softer side, and it tends to shred instead of chipping like apple wood. My mice and rats loved shredding out pieces and putting it into their nests. Wood will be cut, air-dried in the house, and baked.
Safe wood for at least rats, mice, rabbits, chinchillas, and guinea pigs to chew and safe for parrots EXCEPT possibly neophema species (diuretic effects were noted in just this species when consuming leaves, but play it safe).
#rat#rodent#mouse#rabbit#guinea pig#mice#longfeather lane#I'd rather spend the time to make use of it#but if no one's interested I won't wear my hands out doing it#I have plenty of brush pile space and a big firepit#figured I would offer though#Probably price it by weight post-bake
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Writing Notes: Rejection
Rejection is part of a writer's life. Anyone who wants to make it as a writer needs to learn to face rejection bravely, gracefully, and frequently.
3 tips for coping with rejection
Laugh at your rejections.
Learn from your rejections.
Always have a new project underway, something that will give you hope no matter how many rejections come your way for the previous project.
You may take some consolation in knowing the rejection history of these writers and works:
Dune by Frank Herbert – 13 rejections
Auntie Mame by Patrick Dennis – 17 rejections
Jonathan Livingston Seagull – 18 rejections
A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline L'Engle – 29 rejections
Carrie by Stephen King – over 30 rejections
Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell – 38 rejections
A Time to Kill by John Grisham – 45 rejections
Louis L'Amour, author of over 100 western novels – over 300 rejections before publishing his first book
John Creasy, author of 564 mystery novels – 743 rejections before publishing his first book
Ray Bradbury, author of over 100 science fiction novels and stories – around 800 rejections before selling his first story
The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter – rejected so universally the author decided to self-publish the book
From rejection slip for George Orwell's Animal Farm:
“It is impossible to sell animal stories in the U.S.A."
From rejection slip for Norman MacLean's A River Runs Through It:
“These stories have trees in them."
From rejection slip for article sent to the San Francisco Examiner to Rudyard Kipling:
“I'm sorry, Mr. Kipling, but you just don't know how to use the English language."
From rejection slip for The Diary of Anne Frank:
“The girl doesn't, it seems to me, have a special perception or feeling which would lift that book above the curiosity level."
Rejection slip for Dr. Seuss's And To Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street:
“Too different from other juveniles on the market to warrant its selling."
Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References
#norman rockwell#on writing#writing inspiration#writing motivation#writing reference#spilled ink#dark academia#writeblr#writing tips#writing advice#creative writing#literature#writers on tumblr#poets on tumblr#writing prompt#poetry#light academia#writing resources
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_____ HRT: 14 months “_____”
Cw: strong language
“Hello? Hello- ah, you must be Ms. Abigail, you called about Ms. Mulberry being in an unusual condition? I don't normally do house calls, but after T.H.E.M.S contacted me specifically, I assume it's something urgent.”
“Yeah. Urgent is a word you could use. You're Dr. Erian right? May's told me a lot about you. She's in her room right now. I don't know what you gave her exactly, but now you're going to fix it.”
“There's no need to get abrasive. Now let's all calm down and I'll take a look at the situation……… That's a cocoon… I believe I see why I was called.”
“What. The fuck. Did you give her?” A fucking cocoon?! Why would a slime go into a cocoon?! Why don’t you try explaining it to me, because right now, I don’t know whether to sue you, or beat you! You dumb, dumb, dumb old… AUGHHHH FIX IT ALREADY!”
“Look Ms. Abigail, I understand you’re upset, but threats are not appreciated, and what I would appreciate is a bit of respect for what I do. Now then, everything will be alright. It will just take some time while I figure out what is wrong.”
“What’s wrong? It’s your insane medication, that’s what’s wrong! I think it’s obvious as to what the problem is! May was right. You are a quack doctor. You just say whatever pops into your head! Slimes don’t do this! They don’t just go into a cocoon! I literally checked. No one has a clue what the hell this is! Not another slime, not even the other doctors! I’ve asked everywhere I could. Now tell me already, what the hell did you give her?”
“Please tell me you didn’t send out pictures of this. Ms. Abigail, this is a grave breach of trust. You can’t share this sort of thing around. This is simply a job for professionals. Asking around is simply an awful idea that could lead you towards a rash decision. It’s also not something I can readily reveal to you. Even if you are close to Ms. Mulberry. It would be best if you deleted any messages or photos you sent out.”
“Why should I? I’ve heard what’s been going on with her. Directly from her. You’re not giving her the standard medication are you! She lets me listen to her recordings, all of them. I have the last one saved and I’m going to send it out to every news outlet in hyper city if you don’t explain yourself, and yes, I am blackmailing you. So start talking!”
“...That’s quite a threat… What I’m about to tell you must never leave this room Ms. Abigail. Do you understand me?”
“Oh, sure, uh huh. Yeah ok.”
“I am quite serious. If anyone finds out, gods forbid that witch finds out… She would, well I could stand to lose a lot more than just my job… Look, when I started this path, I did it with noble intentions. Sure it was a lucrative untapped market, but there were other reasons too. I chose this career because I truly believe it makes people happy. When Mayday, or anyone else arrives, I see someone who needs help. That is what I do. That is-”
“Get to the point, don’t give me your bullshit.”
“Sigh… When Mayday requested a type of slime with color and texture changing, well that sort of thing requires a control that slimes just don’t have, I attempted to tell her this, but you must understand, she was insistent on this. I knew the normal medication wouldn’t give her the happiness she was looking for, so I, changed, the medication myself to something else. I’ve studied our medication long enough to create my own recipes, and I already had every ingredient I needed. There were some initial tests that looked promising. Of course, Mayday was the first human to test it. But you se-”
“YOU WHAT?!!! You gave her something you had no clue about!!? WHY??”
“You wouldn’t understand Ms. Abigail. When someone is suffering you help them. I know for a fact my own formula is stable, whatever is happening to Ms. Mulberry is simply part of the process. The memory problems were, unexpected, but continuing the medication was her idea, not mine. I simply wasn’t given enough time.”
“Then why didn’t you ask for some time? Or you could have asked someone else, you mentioned like a witch or something, you could have asked her. Or something!”
“Ms. Abigail, you don’t under-
“NO! You don’t understand! You talk about being kind and helping others, but all you’ve done is take shortcuts! You don’t even have the energy to care about the people you apparently want to see happy! You just treat it like it’s another day of your crummy work where you sit around and make people feel like they’re freaks! Do you know what Mayday goes through every time she visits you? Every single time she has an appointment with you! I get a phone call from her crying, feeling disgusting, feeling like she’s worthless and invalid. Do you know what it’s like for the people you supposedly care so much about helping? Do you think they walk out of there thanking you? …Just get out, this was a waste of time. We’ll figure something else out without you, and if you want to be useful. You’ll actually talk to people for once, and you’ll ask for help, rather than trying to validate whatever sick ego you have!”
“I see… Perhaps I’ll have something to think about on the walk back. If Ms. Mulberry still wishes to take her medication when she meets the waking world again, I will do my… I will do better, for the both of you. I wish you both the best of luck. Goodbye, Ms. Abigail. Perhaps we can meet under those better circumstances. In the meantime, I think I have to make a few calls. Do what you will with that recorder, and I hope you’ll see that despite my flaws, I am trying.”
“Yeah. We all are.”
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Mention list: @a-shramp, @calliecwrites, @be702, @respectfulevil, @hyacinthdoll1315, @aster-is-confused, @bloodandbrandywine
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Hey! Guess who finishes the next part way too early! It's us! Hope you're enjoying Slime HRT, though I guess it's slowly no longer just Slime HRT is it. If you can guess the twist, you'll get a virtual cookie!
Either way, we really hope you enjoy. This is the first part that was almost entirely written by someone who isn't Navi. So hope you enjoy! I hope to help out writing more of the story. Love you all for supporting us and hope you'll continue reading!
-Sweetheart💗
#trans#transgender#monster girl#slime girl#slime hrt#animal hrt#species hrt#therian hrt#otherkin hrt#therian#otherkin#fiction writing#original writing#creative writing
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what advice do you have for building a classy, dark energy, femme wardrobe on a budget?
I LOVE these expensive brands I see (YSL, Balenciaga, Jimmy Choo, etc.) but I'm trying to save money for more important things right now.
(plus I can't afford lots of super high end brands on a regular basis, as I'm sure most of us can't lol).
How can I "find dupes" for lack of a better term for these bougie brands I love, or what tips do you have for looking classy and highend on a budget (fashion wise anyway)?
Thanks xoxo
Hi love! I would say the main thing to do is pay attention to fabrics and stitching of garments.
Overall construction matters considerably more than the name on the tag when it comes to building a "high-end" wardrobe. Some fabrics to look for include: 100% cashmere, Pima/Supima cotton/organic cotton, merino wool, genuine leather, and/mulberry silk.
Pay attention to the stitching/buttons or accents on garments. Make sure there are no gaps or loose threads. Look for lined or double-lined items. Darker garments tend to look more expensive. Stick to neutral colors and classic silhouettes for a more "elevated" look.
Some more "affordable" brands (in the mostly $100-$300 range) I love include:
The Frankie Shop
Pixie Market
Massimo Dutti
Manière De Voir
Lilysilk
Reformation
Naadam
Sézane
GAP
Express (for bodysuits/trousers)
Banana Republic
Everlane (the Supima basic tops are great for the price)
Personally, my favorite way to save money on high-end clothes is to use sites like TheOutnet or YOOX and shop the sales sections of designer retailers like Farfetch, Luisa Via Roma, Saks, FWRD, etc. to get the same quality of clothing for less.
Hope this helps xx
#fashion advice#clothing brand#luxury fashion#wardrobe design#wardrobe staples#closet essentials#personal style#black clothing#minimalist fashion#contemporary fashion#fashion#femmefatalevibe#q/a
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Velvet Ring
Chapter Two: Florería
Pairing: Riff x Latina! Reader (West Side Story 2021)
Velvet Ring Masterlist
✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼
I hurriedly make my way from the apartment to the florería just a few blocks away on Mulberry Street, hoping I wouldn't be late. Señora Rivera, albeit kind and generous, was a very strict woman. Especially when it came to punctuality. I sigh in relief as I check my watch just before entering the shop — 8:58am, three minutes early. I push open the door and rush inside.
"Buenos días, Señora Rivera." I say cheerily, the little bell above the door jingling as I walk in. I look around curiously as I'm met with silence, then laugh as I spot her snoring in her rocking chair behind the counter. I tiptoe to the back room and find my coworkers, Marisol and Lupita sat at the tiny circular table set up in one corner, gossiping away. They look up at me with wide eyes as if they were children who had been caught eating sweets before dinner.
"Buenos días, muchachas." I greet them, a slight smirk on my face as they giggle vivaciously.
"Buenos días, Y/N, ¿cómo están Anita y Bernardo?" Marisol asks, standing from her seat to tie her apron around her waist.
I hang up my purse on the coat rack next to the door and grab my own apron out of my cubby, "Eh, están bien. Nardo has been at the gym a lot lately, he's been coming home with more bruises and cuts. Me preocupa por el." Marisol and Lupita hum in understanding. I smile meekly and tie my apron tightly around my waist, "Pero Anita esta muy bien, she's been getting a lot of work at the dress shop. I ask her if she's tired of it, but you know Anita, she's a hard worker. Dice que está feliz de tener más trabajo."
Lupita tosses her graying curls up into a bun and laughs, "Esa Anita, I admire her really. I work with flowers for a few hours a day and then I go home, complaining to Berto that my back aches. No sé cómo me aguanta ese hombre." Marisol and I laugh. Lupita and her husband, Roberto, have been together since they were about my age and they've been married for 40 years now. Lupita always joked that Berto was probably tired of her and that one day he'd leave her for a less irritating woman, but every time he looks at her, all I see is love in his eyes.
Speaking of eyes, I still hadn't been able to stop thinking about that Jet I saw at the market today. His face kept popping up in my head, even though I have absolutely no interest in a boy like that. How could I? The Jets torment Puerto Ricans constantly, I even got a live demonstration of that today. But that didn't stop my wandering mind.
I snap out of my thoughts as Marisol pinches my arm teasingly, "¿Y tú, jovencita? Has Bernardo still been trying to find your future husband?" Lupita cackles at this, making me frown.
I sigh in exhaustion and nod, "He won't give it a rest. He's tried setting me up with at least 5 of his friends these past few months! They're all nice boys, pero... Bernardo me trata como una bebé."
Lupita pats my back, "No te preocupes, nena. He'll come around and see that he doesn't need to be so protective of you anymore." I give her a small smile and nod. I hope she's right.
Just then, the break room slams open. Señora Rivera stands there in the doorway, rubbing her tired eyes, "Muchachitas, ¿están aquí para trabajar o para hablar todo el día?" We all laugh and hurry out of the break room to get to work.
I take my usual place behind the counter, so that Señora Rivera can continue napping. Lupita begins putting the freshly delivered flowers into beautiful arrangements, while Marisol grabs her watering can and starts pouring into the pots of the flowers in the windows. It's this kind of perfect harmony everyday and although it can be a bit mundane at times, I wouldn't trade it for anything else.
✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼
After a busy day, at 3:00, Señora Rivera sends us home, half an hour earlier than we usually get off. I guess she was feeling generous today. Lupita, Marisol, and I hurry to put our aprons away and grab our purses before walking out the back door into the alley behind the shop.
"¡Hasta mañana, Y/N!" They call to me as they walk towards the opposite end of the alley. Lupita and Marisol live a bit further away from the florería than I do, so they take the subway to and from work together.
"Hasta mañana." I call back before turning to walk away.
I then bump into a hard chest.
My heart drops. I feel too terrified to even look up at whoever I just bumped into, but then, I notice the familiar tattoos on their arms. I slowly lift my gaze and am met with those same blue eyes from earlier today. I don't say anything, I just stare up at the Jet. His face was curious as he looked down at me, it frightened me a little. I've heard that the Jets were unpredictable and in this moment, I couldn't tell if this boy was about to kiss me or kill me. At this point, I don't know which would be worse. His face breaks into a soft grin and he finally speaks to me.
"I saw you earlier today, didn't I?" He asks, his expression turning smug now. I quickly shake my head, not daring to speak. He laughs and it sounds strangely warm, "No, I did. I'd remember those big eyes of yours anywhere. You're like a deer in headlights. You usually like that?" He cranes his neck, trying to lower himself to my height. I shake my head again and he straightens up, smirking softly, "Well, I'll see you around, chica." He says those words with such confidence that it makes my brows pinch. How was he so sure he'd see me again? And what gave him the right to talk to me at all?
I huff softly and begin walking past him, clutching my purse tightly, just in case he tries something. I hear him chuckle behind me and I just know he's watching me walk away. The thought makes my cheeks flush furiously.
As I turn out of the alley, I bump into yet another hard chest. I huff a laugh, feeling a bit stupid now, before looking up. Luckily, it was a familiar face this time.
"Hola, Manuel. ¿Cómo estás?" I greet Bernardo's friend politely with a smile, softening my grip on my purse.
He smiles sweetly down at me, rocking on his heels, "Hola, Y/N. Estoy bien, what about you? You look a little startled." He quirks a brow at me, taking in my still pinched brows.
I relax my face and laugh awkwardly, quickly thinking of some absurd story in my head. "I'm fine, I just had a... uh, little scare with a stray cat in the alley. Pobrecito, deberías haberlo visto. He was all bones, chewing on an old shoe, but being skinny didn't stop him from nearly clawing my face off." I laugh again, Manuel laughs along with me, but I can tell he's just doing it to be polite.
He clears his throat and tucks his hands into his pockets nervously, "Y/N, quería preguntarte algo..." My lips quirk into a thin line. I had a feeling Bernardo would try and get another one of his friends to ask me out again, it had been too quiet lately. With the dance coming up in just a few weeks, I figured that's what Manuel would ask me about.
I quickly pretend to check my watch and suck in a breath of air through my teeth, "Ay, Manuel, perdón. I really have to go, Anita needs help with cleaning the apartment today and I promised I'd help her. ¡Adiós!" I wave to him and quickly run down the block. Sure, it was immature and rude, but I just couldn't deal with another one of Bernardo's insane matchmaking attempts today.
✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼
I rush into the apartment and close the door behind me, slumping against it tiredly. At this time of day, Nardo was at the gym and Anita was at the dress shop. It was a small window of time in the apartment that was just for me.
I kick off my flats and hang my purse up on the key rack next to the door before waltzing into my bedroom. I kick my door shut and flop face down onto my bed, snuggling into my blanket. Thankfully, the heat had gone down just a bit and the yarn in my blanket didn't feel nearly as uncomfortable as it did this morning. I turn over onto my back and sigh contentedly, staring up at the ceiling. My moment of peace is then interrupted by a flash of the Jet's face in my mind. My smile drops. I turn onto my stomach again, bury my face in my pillow and groan in frustration. Why couldn't I get him out of my head? Maybe there's something wrong with me.
I climb out of my bed and walk over to my bedroom window, opening up the lace curtains to soak in the sunshine. I open up the window and climb onto the fire escape, hoping the fresh air would help me ease my mind. I sit on the steps and close my eyes, basking in the fresh air and sun rays. Then, I remember what that Jet said to me and it makes everything worse!
"I'd remember those big eyes of yours anywhere..."
I scoff to myself, my cheeks flushed. What did that even mean?! Was he trying to flirt with me? Did I like it? No. This is not happening. I don't even know his name! But I do know one very important thing. He is a Jet. That should be enough reason for me to drop this silly idea... but it isn't. That Jet was flirting with me and some sick part of me liked it. There is no denying it, no matter how hard I try. Just then, an idea strikes my mind. A way to get the Jet out of my head for good. A solution that's been staring me in the face, presenting itself to me time and time again. Well, now I will finally give in. Now, I will let it happen. I am going to let Nardo set me up with one of his friends.
This is sure to work! Most of Nardo's friends are handsome and fun. How could I possibly think of the Jet when I'm with a Shark? It's a foolproof plan. When Bernardo and Anita come home, I will surrender. After three long months of dodging dates left and right, I will tell Nardo that I've been considering his words and I've decided to go to the dance with one of his friends. Nardo will most likely choose Manuel. I wouldn’t be upset about it being Manuel. He's a good looking boy with his tan skin, curly brown hair, and perfect teeth. Yes, this is a good plan. A solid plan.
I smile triumphantly to myself before climbing through the window back into my bedroom. I sigh softly and begin tidying up a bit. I need to busy myself, I can't think about this too long or I'll regret it before it even happens.
✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼
When Anita and Bernardo get home at around 5:00, I usher them to sit with me at the dining table. I smile at them, they both give me a look like I'm crazy, then I clear my throat, "I've decided on something. I think this will satisfy you both."
Bernardo quirks a brow at me, "Well, spit it out, pollita."
I laugh softly and nod, "Okay... I am going to let you choose my date for the dance."
Anita's eyes widen in surprise and Bernardo grins broadly, "¡Finalmente! I've been waiting for you to say this, it's a miracle!"
Anita rolls her eyes at him as he continues going on his rant of triumph. Nardo then stands from the table, "I'm going to tell Manuel!" He runs out of the apartment in excitement, shutting the door behind him.
Anita quirks a brow at me in suspicion, "So... why have you suddenly given up? What's going on with you?"
I pinch my brows, "¿De que estás hablando?"
She stands from her seat and circles the table until she stands before me, "You know what I'm talking about. Just today you were whining to me, saying that you didn't want to go to the dance because your brother would try to get you to go with one of his friends. What made you change your mind?"
I laugh, shaking my head, "Nada, I'm just trying to be a good sister and make life easier for my brother."
Anita gives me a look like she doesn't believe me, but backs off anyway, "Okay... if you say so, Y/N."
I give her a soft smile, "Don't worry about me, Anita."
She laughs, gently pulling me into a hug, "I always worry."
✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼
#mike faist#west side story#riff lorton x reader#riff west side story#mike faist x reader#anita#bernardo#1950s#west side story 2021#riff lorton
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Italian neighborhood with street market, Mulberry Street, New York. , between 1900 and 1910
Photo by Detroit Publishing Company
#Detroit Publishing Company#mulberry street#new york#Italian neighborhood#italian#neighborhood#1900#1910
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1929 Fish market at Mulberry & Bayard Streets, on Manhattan's Lower East Side. From New York City-Vintage History, FB.
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are
you going
to eat
that crazy food?
can i please
have some of
it too?
oh i hope
that it
does not
give you indigestion
that
was once
a
true phantasy of mine.
———
SHUCKS ITS FUSSING BONKERS AT THE FARMERS MARKET
WE DROVE THE GOSH DANG JEEP AND THERES NO PLACE TO PARK IT
WHAT THE FUSS
CUSS
CHECK OUT THAT
LAZY
DUDE WITH ALL THAT
CRAZY FOOD
Handing ample samples out to known customers
Fussing find thag punk if shucks ever gets dire gosh dang he’s superman!
who the hecks his supplier?
RAPUNZEL RAPUNZEL LET DOWN YOUR SPAGHETTI
seriously though
he’s packing chow like confetti?
READY?
shucks uhm
Allspice, amaranth, artichoke, acai Banana, barley, basil, bay leaves, bok choi chai Seitan pot pie, marbled rye Bedhi’d black eyed peas, bing cherries Chioggia beets, hold the meats, gooseberries Cayenne chestnut, chia, coconut, custard Dahlia dates, saffron, dijon mustard (YOU’RE FLUSTERED!!!!) Durian, curry, kale, kasava Clove, eggplant, flax, demitasse, kava Garlic, kumquat, lychee, oca root Jalapeños, garbanzos, starfruit, snakefruit Lavender, lime, karela, kohlrabi Juniper, jak, wakame, wasabi Papaya, papalo, marigold, mango Oregano, sake, lemon, luo han guo, Kiwi, catnip, carolina reaper, Egusi, icaco(why cant this be cheaper??), Poppies, asparagus, Queen Anne’s carrots Broccoli, a gac,
and thatsll take care of us
YOU HAVE MORE???
WHERE FOURTH DOES THOUST OBTAIN SUCH CRAZY FOOD THOU CRAZY FUSS????
COLLARD GREENS BUTTER BEANS VANILLA
POMEGRANATE PINEAPPLE SARSAPARILLA
RAMBUTAN DRAGONFRUIT TAPIOCA
ATEMOYA AKEBIA ROSE MOCHA
AMANITA MUSCARIA CHIVE POTATOES
WATERCRESS SPROUTS QUINOA TOMATOES
PARSLEY SAGE ROSEMARY
Almost seems like this should be illegal.
(Will these even FIT in the veichle???)
…
…
WATERMELON MARIJUANA RHUBARB
TAMARIND TARRAGON TURNIP SWISS CHARD
BLUEBERRY CARAWAY FENNEL CACAO
BOYSENBERRY CUMIN CANTALOUPE (😨)
CELERY SESAME YAM ANISE ZENIA
KOLAS GRANOLAS MARCONAS GARDENIAS
LENTIL CABBAGE VITAL WHEAT GLUTEN WIENER
GHOST PEPPER MUENSTER GEWURZTRAMINER
APPLE FIG PEAR PEACH
PINE HAZEL WALNUT BEECH
SPELT MILLET TEFF TARO
SHALLOT GINGER MACA FARRO
YARROW KALENDULA KOMBU CHLORELLA
CILANTRO PECAN CITRON PORTOBELLA
PUMPKIN RADISH ONION RICE
GINKGO OLIVE MAPLE ICE
THYME STRAWBERRY
PAPAYA CATTAIL SHERRY
MULBERRY PLUM MIMOSA
ARGYREIA NERVOSA
CUCUMBERS MAYPOPS SHAMROCKS
What's with the HEMLOCKS?!
BOURBON APRICOTS SOUR
TRUFFLE SAMPHIRE FLOWER
SQUASH ZUCCHINI MACARONI PORCINI VERMICELLI
AVOCADOS PISTACHIOS CINNAMON ROYAL JELLY
PERSIMMONS HEMP HEARTS GREEN GODDESS
CELASTRUS PANICULATUS
KOMBUCHA AND ORANGES.
Cash only?! Uhhhhh nevermind.
(something idk)
Guess who!!!!
hmmmm
i think it’s akaru, apollo, lea, or asher !!
also this looks like this was entirely typed by hand you good? /silly
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Catanzaro, Calabria, Italy
This ancient town which rises on a rock is the capital of the Calabria region. It was founded in 9th century by the Byzantines and was built over three hills in order to protect the town from the Saracen attacks arriving from the lonian sea.
At the beginning of the tenth century (c. 903), the city of Catanzaro was occupied by the Muslim Saracens, who founded an emirate and took the Arab name of قطنصار - Qatanşār.
An Arab presence is evidenced by findings at an eighth-century necropolis which had items with Arabic inscriptions. Around the year 1050, Catanzaro rebelled against Saracen dominance and returned to a brief period of Byzantine control.
Under the Byzantine dominion, between the end of the 9th and the beginning of the 10th century, Calabria was one was one the first places in Italy to introduce the breeding of the silkworm in the 11th century.
According to French historian André Guillou, mulberry trees for the production of raw silk were introduced to Calabria by the Byzantines at the end of the 9th century. Mulberry leaves are the only leaves that silkworms eat.
Around 1050, the theme of Calabria had cultivated 24,000, mulberry trees for their foliage, with growth still ongoing.
The peasants of the countryside around the city produced the raw silk, which was then woven in the silk workshops of Catanzaro. A large part of the population was involved in this business, and the silk of Catanzaro supplied almost all of Europe.
The silk was sold in a large market fair in the port of Reggio Calabria, to Spanish, Venetians, Genovese and Dutch merchants.
Today, three young friends have come together to bring local traditions back to the fore. In 2014 they decided to build their future in San Floro, a tiny village of 600 inhabitants near the city of Catanzaro and restore the traditional mulberry tree planting and cultivation needed for the rearing of silkworms. Historically, San Floro was famous for a very significant production of raw silk in the 17th century, though this heritage had been completely lost in modern times.
The only surviving elements of this rich legacy were the 3,000 abandoned mulberry trees and the memory of the elderly villagers. Miriam and her friends brought back the production of silk, rewinding the threads of history and travelling across the world to exchange best practices with silk institutes in Thailand, India, Switzerland, and France.
As part of its development, they trained people interested in their new, sustainable production model and also brought thousands of tourists from all over the world to visit their farm (Nido di Seta) to experience how silk is produced first-hand.
Catanzaro is a windy city due to its altitude and position between two seas. In fact, there is only 30 km separating the Ionian Sea from the Tyrrhenian Sea and Catanzaro is wide open to the constant strong breezes from the Ionian Sea and the Sila mountains.
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#catanzaro#calabria#italy#italia#south italy#southern italy#italian#mediterranean#silk#the silkworm#silk road#europe#architecture#textile#loom#mulberry tree#history#muslim#saracens#italian landscape#landscape#mediterranean sea#arab#byzantine#byzantine empire#weaving#nido di seta
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Story time:
There was a kid in my town who sold radios. Home stereos, portable boomboxes, car radios, it didn't matter. You wanted it, it played music, kid sold it.
This is not the part of the story where I sell you an honorable story about a kid earning for a family who can't keep up. Kid had a reasonably secure homelife, just liked having cash on hand for things they wanted. Everyone knew these were not exactly electronics with legitimate provenance, you feel me? But that didn't matter. Kid sold decent equipment at good prices, so if the kid said a case of cassette players fell off the back of a truck, then it fell off the back of a truck.
I get that some people have never lived in communities where the illegitimate market was a staple in community survival, but where I grew up "criminal" was a job title.
Story time:
My mom sold drugs for the cartels. She was a teenager alone in a city where she didn't know anyone, gay as a maypole, school drop out, couldn't hold down a job between the homophobia, the earthquakes, and the severe trauma. So she sold drugs for the local distributer because he didn't care who she fucked or when she needed a day off. Sometimes she spent her drug money on drugs of her own. Sometimes she spent it on expensive sex toys for her and her friends. Sometimes she spent it on food and rent. Sometimes she gave it away to the other queer kids.
The world is a complicated place, and people make complicated choices. Good and bad are rarely what we think they are. We can make that a problem for ourselves by fighting it, or we can accept it and play in the space.
My mom told me about her drug dealer days when she had a talk with me about recreational drug use as a kid. She told me that she tried cocaine once and liked it so much she knew she couldn't try it again. She told me to only ever smoke marijuana if I watched the buds ground up or ground them up myself. She told me not to get high or drunk with anyone unless I trusted them with my life. She told me that if I ever took something and it went wrong that I could call her. And she told me something that she ended up saying a lot: "the only absolute is that there are no absolutes"
Ironically, given my OCD, this was a really protective message. Her point was that doubt, uncertainty, change, difference, were inevitable, and would always take us by surprise until we learned how to internalize that truth. Better to build yourself a comfortable palace of self-reflection in that doubt and uncertainty, and allow the variability of life to be your anchor.
I've been supporting myself since I was a teenager, and maybe one day I'll find something as good as the sound of that giant ass boombox with the batteries the size of a hamster pumping out prince and tracy chapman and the indigo girls under the mulberry tree out front while the smell of my aunties and mom smoking up out back drifts off into the woods. Maybe I'll even find people who see the beauty and humanity in the mess the way I do.
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Morning and evening
Maids heard the goblins cry:
“Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:
Apples and quinces,
Lemons and oranges,
Plump unpeck’d cherries,
Melons and raspberries,
Bloom-down-cheek’d peaches,
Swart-headed mulberries,
Wild free-born cranberries,
Crab-apples, dewberries,
Pine-apples, blackberries,
Apricots, strawberries;—
All ripe together
In summer weather,—
Morns that pass by,
Fair eves that fly;
Come buy, come buy:
Our grapes fresh from the vine,
Pomegranates full and fine,
Dates and sharp bullaces,
Rare pears and greengages,
Damsons and bilberries,
Taste them and try:
Currants and gooseberries,
Bright-fire-like barberries,
Figs to fill your mouth,
Citrons from the South,
Sweet to tongue and sound to eye;
Come buy, come buy.”
Extract from The goblin market by Christina Rossetti
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